The White House Gang
by DA4TheFunOfIt
Summary: A collection of true stories of a First Child and his friends that made up the infamous "White House Gang" of the early 1900's, told in Hetalia style. America joins in with the young gang as they have fun terrorizing Washington.


The White House Gang:

Sanctuary under the Lion and the Unicorn

(Based on true events, as told by Earle Looker)

It was a cold afternoon in Washington DC. There was snow everywhere; from the busy streets, all the way up to the White House. The clean covering over the city made it appear just as white as its most famous residence. But that great hall of Presidents will not be where this story will take place, today. This little-known tale will unfold in a separate, seemingly less-important, structure….

Somewhere within this capital city, at the corner of Connecticut Avenue and N Street, there stood a certain red-bricked building. The structure no longer exists today, but it once stood as proudly as any other building in D.C. At the time of this tale, the red building was being used as the official British Embassy. Anyone could recognize the embassy by the large gilded lion and unicorn that stood over the entrance and greeted all who entered the area.

On this special day in history, unbeknownst to the frigid city of the outside world, a certain man was walking down one of the many hallways inside the embassy. This man was in fact, England—the flesh-and-blood representation of the British Empire, itself. The island nation happened to be in Washington on a standard diplomatic business trip. And so England, as we will now call him, was strolling down the hall on this fateful day and enjoying a rare moment of peace, when—

"SANCTUARY!"

A very loud, and surprisingly clear, shout from outside caught his attention. The nation paused to listen. It sounded to him like there was a ruckus of some sort going on at the front gate. Something deep down told England to ignore it. He should just keep walking. He had his afternoon tea waiting, and it was going to get cold….

"Don't you dare come in here!" There was that voice from outside again. "This is _British_ territory!"

England raised a bushy eyebrow at that. Alright, now he was slightly curious. Muttering complaints to himself over the interruption to his day, he moved to the nearest window to investigate. He just knew he was going to regret getting involved in whatever was going on. Once he reached the widow, he scowled through the glass and searched for the speaker of the bold voice.

The person doing all the yelling turned out to be just a boy. He was a small boy, but he was not alone. A few other young boys (probably around the age of the first boy) and a taller individual (either a teenager or a very large child) were with him. It was difficult for England to make out much more about the group through the foggy, frost-covered glass of the embassy's windows. The boys also had their backs turned to England, which didn't help any efforts to identify them. Add to all that, the fact that they were bundled up against the cold in concealing winter clothes, and it was made completely impossible for the man on the inside to get a clear view of his trespassers' features at all.

The boys seemed to be tired out, though. England could make out that much from the way some of them were bent over with their hands resting on their knees and also from the way they all seemed to be heaving their breaths in and out. If England looked closely, he could just barely see the clouds of their hot breaths rising above their little heads in the freezing winter air.

The small group of children had their attention on the embassy's front gate. England directed his own attention to the open gate that stood at the end of a cramped garden plot. There seemed to be a man at the entrance, demanding that the boy's come out. The blonde nation squinted at the unclear form through the window. He guessed by the colors of the man's clothes that he was a policeman.

Ah, now things were starting to make sense! Once England realized what the man was, he assumed that the boys must have been fleeing from the officer for some misdeed that they had committed. That would explain why they all seemed so out of breath. It would also explain why the children had chosen to take shelter at the British Embassy. You see, the American authorities were not allowed to enter the grounds of the embassy without permission.

Apparently, this cluster of trouble-makers (or at least their leader) was well aware of this rule. England watched in amazement, as the policeman continued to argue with the first boy, while the little devil acted as if the man's authority didn't have any effect on him. He stood up tall in front of the rest of the boys. England couldn't tell for sure, but he thought that the boy also had his chest puffed out at the copper. One fist was on his hip, while the other hand was pointed, threateningly at his enemy. The lad absolutely refused to budge! In fact, he was currently shouting something about how he and his companions would _not_ come out, and that they were all allowed to be there because they were "diplomatic guests."

England huffed indignantly at the boy's claim. The excuse for child's actions had been unexpected, to say the least, but the Brit was not amused by the wild tale. The nation's disgust only grew as he continued to observe the scene, for it turned out boy had even _more _outrageous things to say. The loud child soon began spouting some nonsense about his father being a great friend of the ambassador. To top it all off, according to this impudent boy, he and his friends had been given permission to visit the embassy any time they liked!

Well, England had just about had enough at this point. He did not appreciate a group of American delinquents causing a scene on his property and disturbing his formerly quiet afternoon. The complete and total incompetence of the American authorities was extremely irksome to the old nation, as well. England was on the verge of moving outside to eject the boys, himself, when he was interrupted by a voice behind him.

"I say, what's all the fuss?"

England blinked at the question. He had been so focused on the goings on outside the window, that he hadn't even heard the approach of the new individual. He quickly turned around to acknowledge whoever had just spoken. It turned out to be one of the nation's own ambassadors. Standing there, with an inquisitive expression on his face, was His Excellency, Ambassador James Bryce.

Ambassador Bryce was a short man, with gray hair, and an esteemed scholarly look about him. He held quite a high authority as an envoy of Great Brittan. Nonetheless, Bryce's title could be deceiving. The man possessed a hidden mischievous side along with his many royal and academic honors. Being an experienced mountain-climber, he also had a healthy spirit of adventure. England, himself, respected Bryce for all his acclamations, but always felt as if he had to be on his guard around the playful man, because of his annoying quirks.

Anyway, it seemed as though Bryce had been just about to step out. The man was clad in a cape and carrying a cudgel. Undoubtedly, all the ruckus (plus the sight of his fair country squinting angrily through frozen glass) must have caught the undivided attention of the ambassador before he could depart.

Once England saw who had been behind him, he relaxed. "It's nothing," he quickly answered the important man in an indifferent tone. "It appears as if some local urchins are stirring up trouble," the country politely informed, as he turned back to the window.

But as soon as England returned his attention to the distorted pane, he found the space to his left was swiftly occupied by Bryce. The energetic ambassador stood alongside his land and squinted to see for himself what was occurring. Bryce only took in the frosty view of the standoff outside the embassy for a moment, before a chuckle escaped him. England looked at him. The ambassador's sharp eyes were sparkling under the grey thatch of his heavy eyebrows.

Incidentally, this was one attribute that England couldn't exactly dislike about that Bryce fellow. Like him, Bryce had been blessed with full and healthy patches of hair above the eyes. The glorious eyebrows might have been unattractive to some, but England was actually rather fond of them…most of the time, anyway. He happened to think that they were quite distinguished.

But back to the story, the entertained Bryce returned England's look. "It's rather amusing, what?" he asked with a grin.

England rolled his eyes and looked away. This disturbance was not his idea of fun. He only wanted those boys off his embassy's grounds. The naughty crew and the policeman were most likely starting to attract the attention of the entire city with all the commotion they were causing out there. And then there was also England's afternoon tea to think about! Why did those young, American scoundrels have to choose this most sacred time of the day to invade his small, British sanctuary?

Suddenly, England got an idea. He glanced back at Bryce, who had returned to watching the show. The country's frown disappeared, as he now saw an easy way out of all this. Why not send Bryce out to deal with it? Since the man had appeared so conveniently, and had found the situation most engaging, England might as well put him to use. The ambassador was leaving anyway. He could step out, eject the boys, and be on his way easily. Then England would be able to get back to what was truly important at that moment. It was perfect!

So, ignoring his ambassador's most recent question, England turned to continue on in his daily pilgrimage for tea. "Take care of it on your way out, will you?" England casually requested as he made his escape. "I was just on my way to have some tea."

England could hear Bryce turn to reply. He accepted the request, of course. It was almost too predictable, but he actually sounded excited about it.

"Right away, sir!" he said. "High time something interesting happened around this place! Been far too dull for my taste, as of late. This should make a fine story to bring home to his Excellency."

England rolled his eyes again. Bryce always loved to collect interesting stories that he could take home with him. "Yes, yes. Just get on with it," the blonde sighed. Well, at least _someone_ was enjoying this inconvenience.

* * *

><p>England gladly got back to his stroll through the halls of his embassy. The noise of the children outside soon faded away. England sighed as he walked. He was surprised when the soft sound of his breath almost echoed in the stillness around him. He paused for just a moment and listened. He wasn't used to a lot of noise in the embassy. After the rowdy disturbance he was just exposed to, he realized how deathly quiet the place was. Had it always been this silent?<p>

England sighed again and continued walking. What did it matter how quiet it was? He liked a calm atmosphere, didn't he? It was what he preferred, wasn't it? Still, for some reason, the silence had put a damper on his mood. He was still glad to know that he would soon be having some nice tea, but he couldn't help feeling a little down in his lonely building.

The British Embassy of Washington was a nice enough place, but there were times when England would have a feeling of being trapped within it. Yes, he could always go out into the city for a change of scenery, but he never felt like he belonged in the country outside the safety of the embassy's walls. So the cold, red building acted both as a quiet sanctuary and a lonely prison. Truthfully, England was aching to get out of the States and back to his _own_ home. Europe was not always a very pleasant place for him, either. Having only a few close friends (and no _true_ European nation friend to speak of), the kingdom still secretly struggled with bouts of loneliness in his own home every now and again, but at least he knew without a doubt that he _belonged_ there. He felt he was spending too much time abroad lately. It seemed like he was being called away from home to deal with foreign diplomatic affairs more and more often. And too much of his days away from home seemed to be spent in America.

England hadn't spent so much time in America since the days when it was his colonies. The visits he was forced to make now, were not as enjoyable as those visits had been. In the past, he had been able to relax and take it easy. Now, it was nothing but work, work, work. The worst part of it was the person with whom he had to work!

Turning a corner, England was coming closer to the special private room where he would have his tea. One thing good about his embassy in Washington was that it provided an escape. It was the one place in the states where he could go to avoid the wild personification of the United States of America. The old nation shook his head as thoughts of the younger country entered his mind. Honestly, the boy had been cute as a child, but now America could be such a bother. England wouldn't even be working so closely with the annoying younger nation right now, if his boss wasn't _making_ him. Curses on his government for having the audacity to do that!

It shouldn't need to be said that America and England had not been the best of friends ever since the American Revolution. The relations between the two had been kind of…well…_tense_ for some time. Even after The Revolution and The War of 1812, when the nations were supposed to be "at peace" with each other, there was still a huge amount of distrust between them. That mistrust is what dominated their relationship. America's boarder disputes with his northern brother, Canada, had also helped to add fuel to the flames, since the Canadian's lands were still under British control. Then, during America's Civil War, there was actually a real concern on America's side that England might join up with the Confederate States and fight another war against him. In reality, there wasn't much for America to worry about. England never did get involved with the Confederacy in the war, although there had been times when he had briefly considered it…. In any case, he had never fully opposed the Southern Cause. He did allow several of his own British-built warships to be used by the Confederacy.

And there was also the matter of competition. Over the long years following his revolt and independence, The United States of America had grown to become an impressive world power. England, acting as the United Kingdom of Great Britain had also grown in his own world dominance and power. It was no wonder that the two sides grew to see each other as rivals on the world stage.

But times were changing, now. A few years ago, England and America's bosses had come up with the _preposterous _notion that their nations needed to have a reconciling. After all, according to their leaders, it didn't make sense that they should always be in competition with one another. It would be much more productive for them to work together. And it certainly wasn't in the world's best interest if the two superpowers continued to harbor ill feelings for one another.

So an unofficial campaign of brotherhood and reestablishing friendly relations between the British Empire and the Land of the Free was put into motion. No treaties were signed, but it was understood on both sides that the troubled times between them needed to come to an end. England could still remember being shocked by his superior's wishes. In a fury, he had told proclaimed that he would rather die a slow, painful death than work directly with his former rebellious colony in _any_way!

If the Brit was honest with himself, he would admit that he did somewhat miss America, deep down. After all, he _had_ raised America as a colony. Despite what most American's probably believed, the two land personas had actually had a wonderful relationship before the whole American Revolution thing. England still found it hard sometimes, to look at the vibrant, teenaged country without seeing the sweet little face of a bare-foot toddler, asking for a bedtime story.

England had swallowed his pride over the matter once, and had regretted it. A few years ago, he had made a passing comment to America about how if the boy ever wanted any friends, he could always come to him. The offer had been met by America's laughter. "No way!" he had scoffed, before winking and running off to do who-knows-what. Poor England had been left alone with his embarrassment, disappointment, and rekindled dislike for the stupid brat. Either America had refused because he had thought the offer was a joke (one that he _wasn't_ going to fall for), or he just loved to do things that royally ticked England off. There was also a slight chance that America had been joking, himself. The boy did have a sick sense of humor, at times. But joke or not, it had hurt, and England was in no hurry to relive that moment of rejection. The LAST thing he ever wanted to do was embarrass himself like that again!

Besides, England had become too comfortable with their established rivalry. The Brit just loved to hate America for being so infuriatingly gifted. Success always seemed to come easy to the boy. England had built his Empire with a fair amount of hard work, whereas America appeared to grow and prosper without even trying. Still, even though America's good luck was annoying, it was somewhat enjoyable for England to brainstorm for ways to try and outdo his impertinent competition. Over the years, he had become obsessed with attempting to show America who was the better, stronger, and more successful nation. What was wrong with a healthy, competitive relationship, anyway? They were America and Briton, for heaven's sake! They were _supposed_ to butt heads with each other. It was just what they _did_. Anyone in the world could have told you that. It was a well known and cemented fact. One of those things that "made the world go 'round," if you will. How on earth would they ever be able to get away from that which had been expected of them for decades?

Still thinking about these things, England arrived at the entrance of his tearoom. He opened the double doors and closed them behind him as he walked into the room. He saw his tea set out and waiting for him, like always was at this time of the day. He sighed gratefully at the image, before moving to take a seat at his tea table.

It had not been easy, but things were slowly getting better between the stubborn nations who had been forced to "kiss and make up." It didn't matter how England or America felt about the new order of things. Bottom line: it was what their bosses wanted, so they had no choice. Their efforts actually seemed to be paying off. It was a slow process, but the citizens of each nation were definitely having a more positive view of one another. Attitudes of Americans toward the British seemed to be especially improving.

Of course, America hadn't liked the idea either, in the beginning. The spoiled nation had openly gagged at the thought of being f…fr.._friends_ with his old adversary! But by now, he seemed to have completely warmed up to the idea. However, America's new attitude turned out to be greatly confusing to his new "friend." England had always thought that if America ever became friendly towards him again, he'd be the happiest creature on earth. Now, he wasn't sure it was such a good thing, after all. In fact, it could be just plain uncomfortable. After all this time, America was suddenly acting like nothing had ever happened between them. It was awkward. What made it more difficult was that England's pride kept getting in the way of responding positively. There was a part of him that didn't want to forgive America. A part of him that wanted to go back to the more comfortable rivalry days. …A part of him that didn't want America to know how much he still secretly cared for him. What if America's new pleasantries were all just a trick? England often ended up using the safe wall of "I'm not spending time with you because I _want_to, I'm doing it because my superior is forcing me" as protection from America's friendly advances. He felt incredibly stupid for resorting to that, but at least he wouldn't be hurt that way.

Besides, England didn't know what was more annoying: the America who obnoxiously brushed him off, or the America who showed up at his doorstep every single day. America would visit England to brag about different accomplishments, mostly. He was loud. He was rough. And he had no respect whatsoever for protocol. The American was always wanted to skip out on work. Whenever they were supposed to get together for an important meeting, America would try to persuade England to go see a film instead. During actual meetings, America would always try to cut them short, or beg England for a break so that they could go grab a bite to eat. England would scold him for being lazy, but the idiot would insist that it was "all for the new campaign." He would claim that his suggestions to slack off together were always offered in the spirit of brotherhood, and totally in the interest of building up good will between them. According to America's reasoning, it would be much easier to become friends if they did something fun together, rather than doing nothing but work together. It made sense in a way, but spending only recreational time together was hardly productive. England would only get annoyed with America's suggestions.

But it wasn't just the teen's suggestions that England found annoying. It was his ideas during business meetings, his work ethic, his mannerisms…essentially… _everything_about America, right down to his voice, was the definition of irritating to England. Despite all the time they spent together, the two world powers seemed to be getting very little accomplished, business-wise.

Things had been so much easier when America had been colony! England often missed the days when the boy was young and obedient. England had asked himself many times over the years where he had gone wrong with America. They had had a real friendship in those days, or so England had thought, anyway. America had always seemed to love England like a brother. England had felt the same way about the boy. Back then, America had been England's favorite person. Now a days, England found himself wanted to do nothing more than _strangle_the American! (But of course he couldn't do anything like that, because his boss would have his head!)

England shook his head as he poured the tea. He had to stop thinking of America as his colony. Those days were over. And really! So what if America wasn't his colony anymore? He had acquired several other colonies, countries, and pieces of land. England had more land in his empire than he knew what to do with. He didn't need America anymore. It was silly to linger in the past, when he had plenty of other colonies now.

…None of them were quite like America, though….

With a loud grunt, the reminiscing nation tried once more to shake America out of his thoughts. He focused on preparing his tea. England had no business with the lad today, so in his mind, he had a day off. He was going to relax and enjoy the peace and privacy while he could. As he stirred the hot liquid, the blonde found comfort in the thought that there was no solid alliance established with America yet. And even if there was, it would not be as bad as _other_ alliances he had had to make, recently. America was _nothing_compared to them. America had been like a warm-up for the real deals. The land didn't bother to hold back a shudder as he thought of France and Russia.

At least he always had Japan to go to. A few years after England and America had been practicing better relations, Japan had become the first nation for England to make an official alliance with after so many years of his "Splendid Isolation." The British nation had been nervous about it, at first. Even though he always tried to convince himself otherwise, he really did hate being alone, but he had been trusting in his own strength and no one else's for so long, that he didn't know if he could handle working alongside another country in any kind of alliance. But as it had turned out, Japan wasn't so bad. He seemed to be a calm and peaceful fellow. He was so different from the other wildly eccentric countries that England was used to dealing with on a regular basis. England really couldn't wait to visit the calm, Japanese nation again. It would be nice to have a peaceful cup of tea with the man.

More at ease than he had been, England picked up his cup and saucer. He raised the cup to his lips with anticipation for the taste of the soothing drink. Unfortunately, before he could take so much as one sip of his delightful tea, he was interrupted by a loud disturbance.

BAM!

England jumped in his seat. Tea spilled out from the edges of his cup. The dribbling hot liquid came in contact with his pants, soaking through to the skin in an instant. As soon it hit England, the poor man sprang out of his chair with a yelp. In his haste, he almost dropped the fragile cup and saucer in his hands. Somehow he managed to hold on to the pieces and avoided that disaster. He was still upset over the spilt tea, however. He angrily set his cup back on the table and dabbed at his trousers with a napkin. While he worked on the stain, he looked to the doors on the other side of the room. It sounded like there was a stampede of wild animals thundering down his halls.

"Quick! In there!" he heard a voice shout.

That was it! England smacked the napkin down on the table, and stormed to the doors. He didn't know what was going on, but he was going to find out.

Just then, the doors swung open. England had not even made it halfway across his tearoom when it happened. A rabble of young boys rushed through the wide entrance and then quickly turned to slam the doors shut. In a matter of seconds, the peaceful mood of the area was ruined. England stood, shocked and appalled, as the boys huddled against the door, panting heavily.

"D-Do you think we were seen?" one of them asked. Not a one of the lads had noticed England. A green eye twitched under a lowered brow. England's temper was dangerously rising. He realized that these were the same boys who had invaded his front yard just minutes before. Now they were in his building! What made these cheeky little monsters think that they had the right to just barge in, uninvited, and tear through his halls? The incensed nation was about to open his mouth and make the boys _very_aware of his presence, when he heard another voice he recognized.

"Not a chance!" a taller one assured. "We should be safe in here."

England's tensing body relaxed from shock of hearing that voice. What? Later on, England would realize that he shouldn't have been all that surprised, but at that moment, that certain voice was not at all one he had been expecting to hear.

"A-Alfred?" England stammered.

Sure enough, the largest member of the group whipped around in response to his name.

"ENGLAND!" America shouted with joy.

England felt his body tense with anger again. "How many times have I told you—OPH!" England was silenced with a bone-crushing hug.

"England!" America exclaimed again as he rocked the nation back and forth. "I never thought I'd actually be glad to see you!" Here, America suddenly broke the hug and began clinging to the front of England's suit like a frightened child. "You gotta hide us!"

England let out a breath once he was released. "Alfred!" he then hissed when the teen started pulling on his clothes. "Control yourself!" he ordered. He didn't _have_to do anything for the idiot! England tried to push America away, but the younger nation kept a tight hold, as always.

"But Engla—"

"Stop calling me that, you git!" England warned, thinking of the children in the room. He didn't like to go around letting everyone he came in contact with what he really was. That just wasn't smart, and he had told America countless time to refrain from using his country name in uninformed public.

While America continued to beg England for help, the island nation tried to make sense of how all this could be happening. Didn't he _just_ send Bryce out to deal with this situation? Didn't he…wait…_Bryce_…. Oh. Oh no. That did it! England's mood was now upgrading from "miffed," to "quite peeved!" He should have known better than to send _Bryce_, of all people, to handle a job like this! The useless man had probably only joined the scene at the front of the embassy just long enough to get a bit of a laugh and then had probably gone along his merry way! (But most likely not before jabbing the officer with a cleaver remark or two about his amusing predicament) England could just see Bryce now, strolling down Connecticut Avenue, swinging his cudgel as if nothing had happened. That infuriating wanker! "Man of letters," _indeed_! England could murder Bryce for this! One would expect a British ambassador to take some matters seriously, but no!

The truth was Bryce couldn't resist a good opportunity to have a little fun when it came to unique situations like this. England should have anticipated this fiasco happening with his idiot ambassador on the job. The peeved country wouldn't be a bit surprised if his man was the culprit to blame for the young boys tearing through his embassy. For all England knew, Bryce had probably opened the doors wide and welcomed the delinquents in the building with a hearty invite! England was positive that he had his traitorous ambassador to thank for his wet floors and any other damages the boys might have caused. Worst of all, it was also thanks to good old Bryce that America (the _last _person England had wanted to see that day) was there, currently gripping England's shoulders and shaking him silly.

"But you don't understand!" America wailed in desperation. "We're being followed! You have to—"

"We've been compromised!" one of the boys suddenly shouted.

America kept his tight grip on England, but jerked his head around to the kids.

"Already? How did they move so fast?"

Suddenly, there was a BANG and England's doors jerked forward. The boys held their positions and tried madly to block the door from opening. But the doors kept leaching forward as if it was being hit over and over again with a battering ram. England thought he could hear a voice outside the room, but he couldn't make out anything else over the sounds of the boys clamoring against his doors and their panicked yelps. One boy shouted out a fighting word of encouragement as if he was a general speaking to frantic troops. "Stand fast!" he shouted. "Hold together, men!"

All this happened too fast for England to react. The nation thought he had seen America's face pale at the first hit to the doors. The Englishman realized at that moment, with some alarm, that he hadn't seen his former colony _this_ scared in a long time. Not since he was a young boy, probably. Just who in the world was this group on the run from? What could cause the bold, United States of America to cower like this? It couldn't really be as bad as all that, could it? Whatever it was, it was on the other side of the door, and it was coming in whether the boys wanted it to, or not.

Just as England started to demand that the boys step away from his abused doors, they burst open. The boys all screeched and scattered. America practically leap-frogged over England and hid behind the confused country. "Every man for himself!" he shouted.

Now believing that this must be a very serious situation, England looked up ready to fight if it was needed. It didn't matter what an idiot America was, no one was going to break into England's embassy and terrorize his former little brother like this while he was around!

The nation faced the doorway to see an elderly, well-dressed, heavy-set woman stormed into the room. Emerald eyes widened and bushy brows rose in shock. Was that it? _That_ was what the boys were avoiding? The fearless nation of America was hiding from the likes of _that_? Surely not! But apparently, it was all too true. England could feel America crouching lower behind him and clutching the back of his suit with a desperate grip.

While America used England as a shield, the angry women swatted at the retreating boys with her umbrella. She had on a large hat, which England noted had an uncanny ability to remain securely fastened to the top of her wildly raging form. Her earrings were large as well, and they dangled violently back and forth as the lady moved about the room. England would have thought it humorous to watch the youngsters tripping over themselves in an effort to get out of her reach, if he had not been so utterly confused by the craziness of the invasion.

Most of the boys quickly followed their country's lead and rushed to hide behind England. England felt himself being unwillingly pushed forward by the influx of refugees behind his person. Only one boy stayed out in the open. It was the same boy-general who had been courageously commanding the other boys, just moments before. The woman zeroed in on him immediately.

"There you are, you vandal!" she shouted with recognition.

England could see the boy shrinking away slightly, but it was obvious that he was trying to stand his ground. It was as if he was purposefully trying to direct the lady's attention to himself. He held his hands out in surrender and stood in front England as if he was trying to protect his friends.

"P-Please!" he begged in a now smaller voice. "I-I'm terribly sorry! On my word, I wasn't aiming for you!"

Suddenly, England was hit with a realization. This was also the very same boy who had been having that shouting match with the policemen on England's front lawn! The Brit was sure of it! Now however, the boy didn't look or sound nearly confident as he had with the lawman. England watched dumbfounded as the lad was roughly seized by his ear.

"That will do you no good!" the woman replied. "You think you can outrun consequence? That useless officer may have been too cowardly to come in here after you, but you will find that you cannot shake me off as easily! I will see to it that you are justly punished for this!" The lady waved her umbrella high in the air while she spoke. It made her look like she was publicly protesting some great injustice. She jerked the boy closer to her. "Now I will ask you once more, what is your name? And do not even _think_of lying to me! Somehow or other I will have your name, your address, and the names of your parents! They should be ashamed of how poorly they raised you!"

England watched closely as the lad squirmed in the woman's grip. He seemed to be straightening himself up as much as his compromising position would allow. Looking up at his captor, the boy replied clearly: "I told you before, I am Quentin Roos-e-_velt_!" The boy made sure to carefully enunciate each syllable with such clarity that the name could not be mistaken.

This new plot twist caused England's jaw to drop in a very un-gentleman-like manor. Did he hear that last name right? But that was impossible! That boy couldn't be related to—

"I live in the White House," the boy stubbornly went on, "and I'll pay for your darned old window out of my allowance."

England suddenly felt a monstrous headache coming on.

* * *

><p>Author's note:<p>

A late fic, kind of in honor of President's Day! ^^ Only, this is more about a President's son, than a President. Meet Quentin Roosevelt, son of Teddy Roosevelt! The White House Gang was a group made up of Quentin's friends, and on occasion, his brothers and sisters. Quentin was the leader, and the gang was infamous during Teddy's terms. These stories are taken from a book written by Earle Looker (one of the old members of the gang) and signed by Roosevelt's wife in a statement saying that the stories in the book are true, as far as she can recall. I got this book a while back, and I've been wanting to write a fic about these kids for forever! This book is a goldmine of hilarious stories! I love this 1st family! This time period has been described as a time "before America lost its innocence". I'm sure Alfred was member of this gang, too. ;)

As I was reading this particular story, I couldn't help thinking about America and England, and what might have happened if they had been thrown in the mix. How would England have taken the invasion of his embassy? I especially thought of England when the book mentioned that Bryce had very large eyebrows. (Yes, that was true)

According to Looker, the gang got into some trouble with the lady in this story (full details will be shared later), and she called the attention of a nearby policemen. The boys freaked out and ran from the law. After running for a while, with the cop hot on their heels, Quentin spotted the British Embassy, and being the clever little devil that he was, led his gang over its boarders, knowing they would be safe from the American law force on "British territory." All the policeman could do was stand at the entrance and try to order the boys out, but they didn't budge. Bryce did eventually come out, but all he did was inquire as to what was going on, and say to the police officer, "Well, it looks like you have a problem, don't you?" before winking at the boys and continuing on his way. XD

I decided to take it a step further, and have the old lady show up again and chase the boys into the actual embassy. Her confrontation with Quentin in this fic actually happened right before she called the police. Obviously, she didn't believe what the kid said about living in the White House. What happens next, you will have to wait and see, but it will have more elements of what happened in the original story, and a few elements from other tales of the White House Gang, which I will explain. I also plan to write more White House Gang stories after this.

Everything that the non-fictional characters say in this book is pretty much word for word the way Looker told it.

Now for a little bit of more confirmed history: When I was doing research for this story, I wanted to find out what the exact relationship was between America and the United Kingdom at this time. I was interested to find out that this took place in a time that one historian calls "The Great Rapprochement." That refers to the two decades leading up to the First World War, when relations between the two nations grew steadily better. Before that, things between the UK and the US were pretty sketchy. There was The Revolutionary War, The War of 1812, boarder disputes between America and Canada, (which was at the time was still under the British Empire), and during the American Civil War, America was worried that England might side with the South. England didn't, mainly because they had a few of their own problems to deal with at the time, but they did allow a British-built ship to attack Northern merchant and naval ships in the name of the Confederacy. There had just been a lot of competition and mistrust between the two nations ever since the Revolution.

But during the Spanish war, things changed a little. England was neutral, but openly sided with America because it was in their best interest. After the war, it was basically understood between the two nations that all the bad relations between them really were ridiculous and needed to come to an end. Between that time and WWI there was an effort on both sides to work toward a friendly relationship between Americans and Brits. I found a humorous old poster I that was used for the promotion of the United States and Great Britain Industrial Exposition in the late 19th century (1899-1900) You can see it on Wikipedia.

Among a bunch of funny saying about unity and 'kindred interests,' it shows Uncle Sam and John Bull shaking hands, like they're just the bestest of friends! XD I imagine that a more accurate, Hetalia version of the poster would have England and America's bosses trying to push them together in an attempt to force them to shake hands, with the two superpowers fighting the shoving and trying desperately to back away from each other. I bet it just killed them both that they had to learn to "play nice" with each other, but in the end, things did get a lot better between them both. ^^

Oh, and I almost forgot to mention, there are a few comic/episode references in here. The part were England offers friendship to America comes from the "Black Ships" comics. And England befriending Japan is referencing the Anglo-Japanese Alliance comics.

I think that's it.


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